A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

laughing. Even
Barathol was struggling.
    Blend sighed and then said, 'I'll go settle the fine. Consider
it a loan.'
    'Much appreciated, Blend, and thank you.'
    'Remembering Kalam,' she replied, heading out. Neither
guard paid her any attention. But she was used to that.
    A bhokaral answered the door. High Alchemist Baruk
stared down at it for a long moment before concluding that
this was nothing more than a bhokaral. Not a demon, not
Soletaken. Just a bhokaral, its little wizened face scrunched
up in belligerent regard, spiky ears twitching. When
it made to close the postern door again Baruk stepped
forward and held it open.
    Sudden outrage and indignation. Hissing, spitting,
making faces, the bhokaral shook a fist at Baruk and then
fled down the corridor.
    The High Alchemist closed the door behind him and
made his way along the corridor. He could now hear other
bhokarala, a cacophony of bestial voices joining in with
the first one, raising an alarm that echoed through the
temple. At a branching of the passageway he came upon an
old Dal Honese woman tearing apart a straw broom. She
glared up at Baruk and snapped something in some tribal
tongue, then made squiggly gestures with the fingers of her
left hand.
    The High Alchemist scowled. 'Retract that curse, witch.
    Now.'
    'You'll not be so bold when the spiders come for you.'
    'Now,' he repeated, 'before I lose my temper.'
    'Bah! You're not worth the effort anyway!' And all at
once she collapsed into a heap of spiders that scurried in
all directions.
    Baruk blinked, and then quickly stepped back. But none
of the creatures skittered his way. Moments later they had
inexplicably vanished, although not a single crack or seam
was visible.
    'High Alchemist.'
    He looked up. 'Ah, High Priestess. I did knock—'
    'And a bhokaral let you in, yes. They're in the habit of
doing that, having chased away most of my acolytes.'
    'I wasn't aware bhokarala were in the habit of infestation.'
    'Yes, well. Have you come to speak to me or the chosen
. . . mouthpiece of Shadowthrone?'
    'I do not believe you have been entirely usurped, High
Priestess.'
    'Your generosity is noted.'
    'Why is there a witch of Ardatha in your temple?'
    'Yes, why? Come with me.'
    The Magus of Shadow – gods below – was sitting on the
floor in the altar chamber, sharpening knives. A dozen
such weapons were scattered round him, each one of a
different design. '. . . tonight,' he was muttering, 'they all
die! Cut throats, cleaved hearts, pierced eyeballs, pared-back
fingernails. Mayhem and slaughter. Clippings—' and
then he glanced up, started guiltily, licked his lips once
and suddenly smiled. 'Welcome, High Barukness. Isn't it
a lovely day?'
    'High Alchemist Baruk, Magus. And no, it is not a lovely
day. What are you doing?'
    His eyes darted. 'Doing? Nothing, can't you see that?'
He paused. 'Can't he smell them? Close, oh so close! It's
going to be a mess and whose fault will that be? A real mess
– nothing to do with Iskaral Pust, though! I am perfect.' He
attempted an expression of innocence. 'I am perfect . . . ly
– perfectly – fine.'
    Baruk could not help himself, turning to Sordiko Qualm.
'What was Shadowthrone thinking?'
    The question clearly depressed her. 'I admit to a crisis of
faith, High Alchemist.'
    Iskaral Pust leapt to his feet. 'Then you must pray,
my love. To me, since Shadowthrone sees through my
eyes, hears through my ears, smells through my nose.'
He crossed his eyes and added in a different tone,
'Farts through my bung-hole, too, but that would be too
offensive to mention.' He struggled to correct his gaze
and smiled again. 'Sordiko, my sweetness, there are very
special, very secret prayers. And, er, rituals. See me after
this man has left, there's no time to waste!'
Bhokarala were creeping into the chamber. A score of
them, moving with pointless stealth, all converging on
Iskaral Pust – who seemed entirely unaware of them as he
winked at Sordiko Qualm.
    'High Priestess,' said Baruk, 'you have my sympathy.'
    'I have news from Shadowthrone,' Iskaral Pust said.
'This is why I have summoned you, Baruchemist.'
    'You did not summon me.'
    'I didn't? But I must have. At least, I was supposed to.' He
tilted his head. 'He's another idiot, nothing but idiots on
all sides. There's just me and Sordiko darling, against the
world. Well, we shall triumph!'
    'Shadowthrone?' Baruk prompted.
    'What? Who? Oh, him.'
    'Through your mouth.'
    'Brilliance shall pass, yes yes. Let me think, let me think.
What